Early the next morning, the atmosphere in the house had frozen to the point of zero degrees.
Lin Fen was the first to sense something was wrong.
Her son, Qi Weiguo, got up early with a face dark as the bottom of a pot. At the breakfast table, he said not a word. After a few mouthfuls of porridge, he quickly finished it, grabbed two steamed buns, and slammed the door as he left.
Meanwhile, Li Zhihuan acted as if nothing had happened. She ate her porridge slowly and calmly, even with a faint… look of satisfaction on her face.
Lin Fen couldn’t help but feel suspicious.
What happened between these two last night? Did they argue?
But looking at Li Zhihuan’s relaxed expression, it didn’t seem like it.
As soon as Qi Weiguo left, Li Zhihuan also put down her bowl.
Unlike usual, she didn’t go back to sleep. Instead, she carried a pile of things out of her room.
It was the fine cotton fabric she had bought from the supply store a few days ago, along with needles, scissors, and a piece of stiff cardboard torn from an old notebook.
Lin Fen stretched her neck curiously to look.
She saw Li Zhihuan spread the fabric across the table, take a short pencil, and draw something on the cardboard. After drawing it, she cut it out with scissors—snip, snip, snip—forming a strange shape.
Then she placed the cardboard template on the fabric, traced around it carefully with a pencil, and cut it out with precision.
All morning, Li Zhihuan sat in the sunlight in the courtyard, fully focused on her work.
She even brought out a sewing machine from the house. It was something the original owner had begged to buy, used only twice, and then left to collect dust.
Li Zhihuan carefully wiped it clean and even oiled it.
With the crisp “da-da-da” sound, the plain piece of fabric gradually took shape under her hands.
Lin Fen was completely confused.
What on earth was Li Zhihuan up to this time?
Naturally, this scene also fell into the eyes of the “intelligence center” of the military compound—the military wives.
“Look! That woman from Battalion Commander Qi’s family didn’t sleep in today. She’s sewing in the yard!”
“Wow, did the sun rise from the west? She can actually do that?”
“What is she making? That fabric looks nice—fine cotton, right? She really spent money.”
“Who knows. Probably just acting up again, trying to please Battalion Commander Qi.”
Rumors spread like wind through every corner.
But Li Zhihuan ignored all of it.
She was immersed in the joy of creation.
In her previous life, she had taken a sewing class as a way to relieve stress. She never expected that this skill would become one of her few forms of entertainment in this era.
By afternoon, her first finished piece was completed.
It wasn’t anything complicated—just a simple round-neck pullover shirt.
She had modified it based on her favorite basic Uniqlo-style top from her previous life: loose, comfortable, and without any unnecessary decoration.
In this era where everyone wore structured, tailored shirts that emphasized waistlines and fitted cuts, her design looked somewhat shapeless—almost like a man’s undershirt.
But Li Zhihuan was extremely satisfied.
She immediately took off her restrictive old shirt and changed into her new creation.
The fabric was soft, breathable, and close to the skin. The loose hem allowed her to stretch freely without worrying about it slipping out of her waistband.
It was practically the perfect battle robe for a salted fish!
She felt great in her new clothes and even hummed a song from her previous life at karaoke.
“Maybe I’m overthinking, you always say so…”
Her strange tune, combined with her lazy leg-swinging posture, drew odd looks from passing military wives.
In the evening, Qi Weiguo returned home after training, exhausted.
After a full day at the military base, his mind was still a mess.
Last night, Li Zhihuan’s so-called “theory of responsibilities” kept replaying in his head like a curse.
Part of him found it absurd, yet he couldn’t stop thinking—strangely enough, it… almost made sense.
He pushed open the door and immediately saw Li Zhihuan sitting in the courtyard reading a book.
And then, he froze.
She had changed clothes.
A white shirt he had never seen before—soft-looking, unfamiliar.
Under the glow of the sunset, the fabric was tinted with a warm orange hue. Because the design was loose, the neckline was slightly wider than usual. As she lowered her head to read, a delicate glimpse of her collarbone appeared and disappeared in the light.
A breeze passed by, gently pressing the fabric against her body, outlining—
Qi Weiguo’s gaze suddenly burned. He quickly looked away.
His heartbeat, once again, became uncontrollably chaotic.
This woman!
Did she even realize how inappropriate it was to dress like that?!
A strange surge of anger rose from deep within him.
It was a mix of irritation and an unfamiliar, restless heat that even he couldn’t clearly define.
He slammed his shoulder bag heavily onto the table with a dull thud.
Li Zhihuan looked up from her book and saw his dark expression.
Li Zhihuan lifted her head from the book and saw his face darkened.
“You’re back? Dinner’s ready.”
Her tone was calm as she greeted him, standing up to head toward the kitchen.
But Qi Weiguo stopped her.
He pointed at her clothes, his voice tightly restrained.
“What are you wearing?”
“Clothes.”
Li Zhihuan looked down at herself, completely matter-of-fact.
“I made them myself. They’re comfortable.”
“Comfortable?”
Qi Weiguo almost ground the words out through his teeth.
“Look at that collar! Look at those sleeves! Does that look like something a proper woman should be wearing?!”
Li Zhihuan froze.
Only then did she realize.
This basic shirt—completely normal in the 21st century—was, in this conservative era, especially to a traditional soldier like Qi Weiguo, practically a symbol of “indecency.”
“This…”
She was momentarily speechless.
“Change it tomorrow! You’re not allowed to wear it again!”
Qi Weiguo issued the order in an unquestionable tone.
After speaking, as if fleeing some kind of flood or beast, he quickly walked into his room and shut the door again.
Li Zhihuan stood there, looking at her “Uniqlo-style” shirt, then at the tightly closed door, falling into deep thought.
This “investor” of hers not only had unstable emotions, but also strong control tendencies and an extremely conservative aesthetic.
She just wanted to dress comfortably, yet she had triggered his landmine.
Being a slacker like this was far too suffocating.
For the first time, Li Zhihuan frowned deeply over the issue of “lying flat.”
Dinner was even more tense than breakfast.
Qi Weiguo ate with his head down, not even glancing at her.
Li Zhihuan also couldn’t be bothered with him.
After the meal, she washed the dishes as usual and returned to her room.
Late at night, she lay in bed tossing and turning.
That shirt—banned by Qi Weiguo—was still hanging on the chair by the bedside.
No.
Li Zhihuan suddenly sat up.
Dress freedom is a slacker’s basic human right!
She could compromise verbally for survival, but when it came to quality of life, she absolutely could not give in.
This “investor” needed proper “education.”
The next morning, Qi Weiguo got out of bed and opened the door—
Then he froze completely on the spot.
His mother, Lin Fen, was wearing the exact same loose white round-neck shirt he had seen yesterday, standing in the kitchen serving porridge.
And Li Zhihuan, wearing her original old shirt, was sitting at the table leisurely watching him, a faint smile at the corner of her lips.
“Morning, Battalion Commander Qi.”